


For Free

by adrift_me



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Happy Ending, M/M, One-Location Fic, Romance, Second Salemers exist but magic doesn't, Smut, whore!Graves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-15 20:44:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11813847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adrift_me/pseuds/adrift_me
Summary: Credence Barebone doesn't know what waits for him behind the door with a bronze knocker, when he comes to preach about the dangers of magic. What hedoesknow is that behind that door lives a man who sells his love for money, smells like foreign spices and kisses like there is no tomorrow.





	For Free

**Author's Note:**

> A new longfic! A prolonged project which I invested a lot of myself into again. It's come a long way to look as it does now and I really hope you enjoy this little story which is aimed to warm and please.
> 
> This is mostly a one-location fic, so let your imagination draw the depths of a cozy apartment. Have a [Pinterest moodboard](https://www.pinterest.com/toffy346/for-free-au/) if you need some visual inspiration!
> 
> A giant thank you to my wonderful friend [graves_expectations](http://archiveofourown.org/users/graves_expectations) for supporting, encouraging and proof-reading and to [gothyringwald](http://archiveofourown.org/users/gothyringwald/pseuds/gothyringwald) for help with historical meta and with developing some ideas.

**March 4, 1926**

_A wet newspaper lies on the ground, unfolded and stepped on. Date is May 9, 1921. The title reads: “SEARCH FALLEN BUILDING.; Firemen Are Sure Boys Reported Playing Within Escaped.”_

A lone figure was standing in the empty street, head thrown back and eyes looking at the apartment building in increasing terror.

It seemed rather lively with lamps flickering to life in this or that window, a shadow of a person passing behind the curtains, noises of music players and conversations coming from the open frames. Not a place for a starving cold preacher boy.

Credence let the air out through his mouth, feeling his pressed-in stomach relax. He didn’t quite realise how breathless and tense he was when standing at the entrance of a high and long apartment building. It looked rather intimidating for a 2-storeys house. Perhaps, it was the golden-pressed letters of the address sign or the rough edges of the stone columns that made the house feel so foreboding for Credence. Or the fact that he was there “to deliver the word of the Lord” to people who likely didn’t need that word at all, much like any other person on whose doorstep Credence turned up.

It wasn’t his idea, of course. But he couldn’t say no, couldn’t for over 20 years say no and thus followed every fanatical whim of his stepmother. And she had quite a variety of ideas on how to promote their Second Salem church.

“Church”. What a word to use! Those who attended the meetings didn’t seek peace or refuge of mind, didn’t intend to paint their life with good deeds. They were either hungry people who would do anything for a plate of slimy soup or people who shared Mary Lou Barebone’s views on magic, views which were far from friendly. Perhaps, in their dark twisted minds there was no place for miracles, and Credence secretly pitied them.

Credence looked down on the stack of leaflets in his hands. He was holding onto them for dear life, white scars protruding from the top of his hand and reminding him that he was bound to feel inspired about the cause, written in black letters: _“We Need the Second Salem! Witches Are Around Us!”._

Soft raindrops pattered on the pavement and Credence felt them on his face as well. Teeth gritted, he walked up the stairs of the first building entrance. The door glared at him with a large knocker and a small bronze “12”. He swallowed and reached out for the knocker. His fingers brushed the metal when--

“Thanks, Percival.”

The door swung open, making Credence stumble back to let a disheveled-looking man leave the house. He stared at him for a moment (Credence could see how red his lips were and how his supposedly slick hair was messed up) and rushed away down the street, sliding into a coat as he walked. Credence’s gaze moved to another man who stood in the entrance and had a ghost of a smile on his lips. Credence noticed that they had the same matte red colour as the other man’s, with an uneven pattern as if his lips were bitten.

“Can I help you?”

Credence blinked rapidly, turning his gaze away from the beautiful image of the stranger’s lips and stared at the floor. He reprimanded himself for such frivolous thoughts and actions - staring at a man’s lips! - and cleared his dry throat. It didn’t help to bring his voice back and the pause dragged on. Credence’s gaze lowered and flicked towards the man’s feet, one of which was decorated with a thin gold anklet.

“Hey, can I help you?”

Credence flinched away as the man reached out and touched the tip of his chin.

“There, there, no need to be scared. I wish you no harm,” he spoke with a honey mellow voice. He looked around a little bit and then nodded at the dimly lit inside of his apartment. “You look pale. Care to come inside for a small pick me up? It seems rain is about to begin and you don’t want to stay out in such thin clothes.”

Credence barely had a moment to realise what he was told when the door opened wider and the man urged him inside. He stopped minding it much as the rain indeed started pattering angrily at the sidewalk.

As the door closed, it separated the world of rain whispers and a strained silence between the two men within a shadowy apartment. Credence’s fingers dug into the slightly wet paper of his Second Salemers’ nuisance and he shifted on the spot, uncertain of his further actions.

“My apologies for the mess, young man. You have caught me in the act, so to say, but I shall clean this up quickly.”

The man gave him a small smile and picked up a crumpled suit jacket off the hall floor. Credence looked at it numbly, trying to guess what it was doing there in the first place, but no reason good enough came to his mind.

The man cleared his throat and beckoned.

Credence, hands still holding onto the leaflets, followed him up the stairs, gaze catching on the details around him. There was a rug flowing down the steps, shabby in the middle where many feet must have stepped on it. There were gas sconces which provided soft but scarce light to the hall, hiding the apartment from Credence’s curiosity.

And curious he was.

The upstairs mesmerized Credence with its grandeur. He wondered if many people lived in such spaces or was it just this stranger whose taste in furnishing as well as good looks was unquestionable. Credence looked around cautiously, his eyes eager to catch as many details as possible and yet to remain unnoticed.

There was such an explosion of metallic golden gleam, velvety textures of fabrics. Credence studied the endless piles of cushions, rich clatter of decor, expensive looking silks and golden threads. A strong smell of alcohol hung in the air, making him wrinkle his nose a little.

“Would you care for a glass of hot wine?” the man asked, uncorking the bottle with a loud pop and making Credence jump. “What a scaredy cat you are, young man!”

He laughed softly and rather kindly, making Credence smile a little in return.

“Wine sounds good,” he replied. His mother made a small pot of hot wine on holidays and Credence quite liked the savoury flavour of the drink and spices mixed into it.

The man bent behind the kitchen counter to search for the needed supplies while Credence tried to drink in as many more details as possible. The room was heavily curtained, dark red folds hiding the window view quite effectively. He wanted to peek through the crack, to see the city burn with night lights, and he almost reached out for the edge of the curtain when the man’s voice stopped him.

“While I prepare this nice brew, why don’t you tell me what you have been doing on my threshold,” the man’s eyes twinkled kindly as he asked. Credence fumbled, stepping back to the counter clumsily.

“I… Mr.--”

“Percival. Call me Percival, please.”

“Don’t you have a surname, Percival?”

The man smiled at him again, and Credence felt the cold numbness of his fear melt away a little. Percival’s smile was many things. It was bittersweet sadness and offered kindness and a rarity for Credence’s eyes to see when bringing the ‘cause’ to people. He wondered what else he could ask or say to cause such a smile appear again. For him.

“It’s not used often. But to satisfy your curiosity, it’s Graves. No need to use it, or “sir”, I still prefer Percival.”

Warmth spread in Credence’s limbs as the smell of wine reached his nose and the man’s kindness seeped in his every cell.

“So, what have you come to preach?”

Credence remembered the leaflets in his hands, the reason he was at 12 Lincoln Street in the first place, but all the words he had prepared evaded him. He opened his mouth but could not say a word. It simply didn’t make any sense for him to _preach_ to Percival Graves, who was standing behind the counter, his fit body tempting Credence to _look_. An embodiment of everything Mary Lou Barebone warned Credence against.

Percival pushed a thick glass with dark steaming liquid in it towards him.

“This will warm you up, young man. The fire is still lit, please take a seat.”

Credence followed him without a word. The fire was indeed in a pleasant blaze and Credence tentatively shook a thin jacket off his shoulders. As soon as he sat on the sofa, he was drowning in the softness of many cushions and pressing a hot glass to his chest. Percival seated himself in an armchair beside him and sipped at his own drink. Credence’s eyes grazed the gleaming line of a golden anklet, chaining Percival’s foot.

“Shall we get properly acquainted? You know my name, but I don’t know yours.”

“It’s Credence. Credence Barebone,” he supplied, burying his mouth in the hot liquid and suffering as it burnt his lips with tingling.

“This is a peculiar name, dear boy, but dare I say it rather suits your visual… naiveté.”

Percival celebrated with a small cheer of his glass and drank from it, eyes trained directly at Credence, unwavering and contemplating something.

Credence shivered under Percival’s steady gaze and savoured the wine again. It burnt the tip of his tongue and bit at his lips, but it was quite pleasurable still. Definitely an expensive wine and the spices were unlike anything he’d ever tasted or smelled.

As small talk subdued to a dull exchange of pleasantries about rainy weather and a quiet day in New York city, the man continued stealing glances at him and Credence only felt himself shrinking deeper into the cushions, hoping that they could hide him from the piercing glance of the man.

It was… unthinkable. The way those eyes found a way into his very veins, poisoning them with something he didn’t dare name. But he could feel it, the excitement of his heart which fluttered strangely as if struggling to break free. It wasn’t anything he’d ever felt before.

“Do you know who I am, Credence?”

Silence trembled upon breaking. Credence looked at Percival, up and down the elegant body which seemed to be calling for him just from its relaxed pose. There was such an ease in Percival’s movements, such flow of voice and body. He could be a dancer. He could be a model. He could be so many things Credence wanted him to be but never could even dare hope for. He swallowed.

“Uhm…”

Percival rose from the armchair and seated himself on the sofa, slightly away from Credence, legs crossed at the ankles and one arm copying the angle of the sofa armrest. The thin golden anklet chain gleamed against Percival’s softly tanned skin.

“You came to my apartment with a rather obvious intention to preach. I wonder how strong this desire would be if you learnt of my profession.”

Credence shifted a little. The choice of words was a game and he wasn’t skilled at playing it. Apart from that, he wasn’t sure he knew the rules of this very game and was afraid to lose at the first attempt.

He felt the dry surface of his palate with his tongue before opening his mouth.

“What _is_ your occupation then, Percival?”

“Would you care to guess?”

Credence swallowed and shook his head. The rich decor of the apartment gave little hints, but somehow a guess danced at the back of his mind. Yet he could neither reach for it nor dare voice it out loud.

“Very well. Let’s put it this way. People come to me for pleasure. They get to experience… all of their desires, and I get their money. A fair deal for both parties. In other words, I’m a whore.”

Of course. Of course! Credence looked at Percival and somehow it made a perfect picture in his mind. He could see well-cared for skin and perfectly styled hair. All his gestures, movements, even his voice was weighed perfectly and perhaps this was why Credence felt such immediate attachment to the man. It was all a show put up for him, a misleading theatre.

He rose from the sofa quite suddenly, desperate fingers holding onto the hot sides of his half-empty wine glass. His heart trembled in strange anticipation. It screamed “run”, but his body refused. He felt enchanted and thus rooted to the spot, eyes searching for something at the tip of his feet, mouth hanging open a little.

Percival followed him off the sofa, his movements that of a graceful dancer, manly and astonishing. He stood himself before Credence, looking down even though they seemed to be of the same height, if Credence was not taller. The closer Percival got, the more Credence hunched. A whimper slid off his lips as he prayed to diminish and disappear, all to avoid the burning gaze which made something swirl and tug inside his chest.

“You are a very handsome young man, do you know that, Credence?”

“Please, don’t,” he bleated in reply, unable to step back. Percival’s breath touched his skin and his own face all but moved forward a little, which horrified Credence immensely. What was he doing, why didn’t his body listen anymore?

“Even if I wanted… I mean, if I could… I…” Credence made a small step back which Percival mirrored forward. “I don’t have money.”

His ears reddened and blood burnt his cheeks with embarrassment. Percival seemed to remain unperturbed, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“I will not take advantage. But… let’s call it a free trial. You won’t owe me a coin. I shall indulge you as I indulge my clients. It will be our little game.”

Credence froze completely when Percival’s hands brushed his own, removing the wine glass and instead gently squeezing them. He brought his trembling fingers to his lips and planted a graceful kiss on every single knuckle. Credence felt his body melt under the touch of soft lips, embarrassment flushed his cheeks as he involuntarily pushed his hands into that touch. _What was he doing?_

“Credence…”

He looked at Percival whose eyes were carefully studying the scars on his hands. He tried to slide them out of the man’s hold, but his grip was gently firm. His thumbs hovered over his skin, and a frown creased Percival’s beautiful face.

“What is this?”

“Please, do not ask me about them,” Credence bleated again with what remained of his breaking voice and attempted to tug at his own hands once more.

“Is someone abusing you?”

So much sincerity in Percival’s voice. But Credence wouldn’t believe it, couldn’t believe that someone out there would care. A _whore_ wouldn’t, would he? He stumbled over his own thoughts and made one last try to free himself, successfully at that. Clutching the leaflets and giving Percival one last glance, he quickly paced towards the exit and left the building with tears welling in his eyes and hunched shoulders without his forgotten jacket to warm him.

 

**March 12, 1926**

_The newspaper is in the garbage bin. Date peeking from the folded corner is May, 12, 1921. Title cannot be seen._

Spring drizzle hovered in the air on a strong wind. Credence stood by the entrance of 12 Lincoln Street, shivering as the wind glided about his body, making his shirt folds quiver and tremble with no jacket to hold them. His face hurt a little from the whips of rain and wind combined.

Credence coughed and pressed his back to the cold railing of a small set of stairs, leading to the entrance. A small arrow on his watch almost hit 8pm, the very same time as he visited that apartment a couple of days ago.

He was aware of the emptiness on his shoulders, the crawling lashing of a wind which punished his hunching shoulders. His mother was not happy when he returned without a jacket and mumbled incoherent explanations about its absence.

Credence looked at his knuckles, new cuts intertwining with the old ones, and grazed them with a thumb in the same motions as Percival did last time.

Credence closed his eyes, imagining that it was not his own hand, but Percival’s.

It was, after all, another reason Credence returned. With no intention to preach but to feel a foreign fondling touch on his hands again. He could never ask his mother or sisters for such a caress. And this caress he craved for was different, it burnt fires deep inside and made his nerves tingle pleasantly in waves.

Percival… it could be his secret. Was such a secret desire for a touch a sin? Credence was certain his mother would condemn it as such. But he felt a strong attachment of intrigue and adventure which pulled him back to the apartment a week after the initial encounter. That, and the forgotten jacket.

Something stirred in Credence every single time he recounted the incident. Felt wine on his lips even as he drank none.

After all, Percival promised it to be for free. Should something go wrong, Credence decided he could always simply pick up his jacket and leave never to return.

He sighed and slid down the railing a little.

Credence waited. Unusually cold spring wind was merciless to his body, enveloping him in an unpleasant cocoon of bad weather. His hair was dripping a little and he swallowed sweet rain droplets from his lips. Seconds ticked by, minutes, then a whole hour and at last the door swung open.

“Thank you for your generosity,” he heard Percival’s low voice as someone in a dark black suit left his apartment. Credence didn’t catch the man’s face as he stood hidden within the shadow of a large wild bush. As soon as the man disappeared, Credence walked out, intending to knock and see Percival.

But he didn’t have to.

The man in question was leaning on the door frame, his eyes glued to Credence and his weary face touched with a smile.

“It’s unexpected to see you here today, Credence. But pleasant,” he extended an arm and shyly, tentatively, Credence pressed his fingers onto it in a handshake. A gentle thumb stroked his renewed scars and a quizzical look met him from under the furrowed brows.

“My jacket…” Credence coughed to clear his throat. “I forgot my jacket.”

“Yes. I kept it in case you wanted to return.”

Credence shifted hesitantly on one spot. Percival made no move to open the door wider, didn’t extend his arm again to give Credence a nudge. It was a choice Credence was given to make on his own.

And he did, or rather his weather-weakened body did, falling forward and stumbling into unmoving Percival. A steady hand caught his forearm with gentleness he didn’t expect. Percival’s face hovered somewhere over his forehead. Credence’s body felt a wave of shivers wash over him, warmth spreading just from where Percival’s fingers connected on his forearm, and he clenched both hands on his own loose shirt, too big for his malnourished body.

With another insane shiver Credence felt how Percival’s chin touched the top of his head and he brushed him with a short caress, making Credence follow the movement of his face as if to prolong the contact. He yearned for it, eyes closed and embarrassment flushing his cheeks.

But Percival’s hand unclenched and he let go.

“Please, come inside,” Percival’s voice was raspy, finally inviting Credence to come in and plunge into warmth and safety.

***

The apartment hadn’t changed one bit, Credence noticed. The very same rug, the same level of light from the burning gas sconces. Even the air smelled entirely the same, a mix of burning aromas and wine. The entrance, however, had one new detail. Among the rich deep black suit jackets and coats hung--

“Your jacket,” Percival picked the neatly hanging piece of clothing off the hook and offered it to Credence. He accepted it with both hands. Feeling his insides burst with embarrassment, Credence sneaked his fingers to brush Percival’s, which didn’t go unnoticed by the man.

The jacket fell to the floor.

Credence felt an apprehensive hand hold onto his and pull gently. He gave in, let his body follow the inertia. There were mere inches between him and Percival now. Such desire to close the distance, but such inability. The man opened his delightful mouth (Credence felt embarrassed by his own notion yet again) and let a warm puff of air touch Credence’s cheek. His breathing was hot and pleasant against his skin, inducing familiarity and something Credence couldn’t yet explain. But it made his chest heave quickly, and for once it wasn’t fear that did.

He trembled.

“What is it, Credence?”

But he could say nothing. One hand was still holding onto Percival’s, another onto the hem of his own crumpled shirt. He felt the fabric become slightly damp under his own nervous touch, sweat seeping through the threads.

Percival was so much closer all of a sudden, Credence felt, even if he knew the man hadn’t moved an inch.

“It’s alright. You are not the first one to hesitate. But why don’t you stay for this night and see for yourself if your decision to come was a good one. I promise you, it will feel good.”

_Feel good_. It was something which was condemned by his mother. Feeling good meant you had it easy. You didn’t know life. Feeling good was wrong, Credence plucked the words out of memory, words ingrained in his brain.

Percival moved his hand up and forward and again his long fingers circled around Credence’s arm. It felt warm, almost burning, he had never been touched like that by anyone else. His breathing hitched.

“You are so sensitive,” Percival said, amused. His hand rubbed the arm a little, up and down, reassuring and calming or so it was intended to be. Credence felt anything but calm. The feeling of someone else’s skin over his clothes was already exciting beyond the appropriate measure.

It was overwhelming. The touch, the burning which engulfed him was too much. He hated his own indecisiveness but couldn’t bear the feelings Percival induced in him. Too much. He pulled away.

“Credence,” Percival’s voice was touched with impatience now. “I understand this must be new for you, you had to make a decision. But I don’t have all night. And neither do you.”

Credence swallowed a lump which was dangerously close to leaving his choking throat. It was now or never and he allowed the words to blurt out.

“Could you hug me, please?”

Percival stared at Credence in stupor.

“Just a hug,” he added hurriedly. His lips felt numb and unmoving and his intended “please” sounded like a strange incoherent mumble.

To his surprise, he felt arms envelope around him and he was pulled into an embrace. Percival’s large hands didn’t wander his back, they held him tightly almost on the sides, so thin Credence was within his hold.

“I don’t know why I’m doing this, Credence. I could be spending my time in a different company and doing different things. Why am I doing this?”

He pulled away just a little to look in Credence’s avoiding eyes. He waited, Credence could feel it, waiting for him to accept an offer rather than forcing him into it. And he carefully looked up, higher up the cleanly shaved chin and a small mouth and the tip of the nose and at last beautiful black eyes, which were filled with a feeling Credence simply couldn’t name.

It happened on its own. Without his intention, his hand went up and cupped Percival’s cheek. A trembling but careful thumb caressed his cheekbone, rubbed the small space over his lips. Traced the mouth with delicacy and gentleness.

He shivered when he felt Percival’s arms draw him even closer, embrace him tighter.

“How would you feel if I kissed you, Credence?”

His thumb paused on the lower lip, rubbing now in left-and-right motion.

“If you tell me why you are doing this.”

He felt Percival’s mouth stretch under his fingertip, a smile so delicate that he wanted to explore it to its fullest not only with a quizzical thumb but a loving kiss.

“Perhaps, because you are unlike any client I’ve ever had.”

Credence’s heart fell as fast as the pink dreamy curtain he felt surrounding him. _Client_. A sharp word, a painful word he did not wish to have been called. It made him like the rest, even if Percival claimed otherwise. It was a shot of sobriety which made Credence slide his hand down, but it would not do. Percival’s face followed, trying to fit into a gentle cup of his hand again, arms embracing only stronger.

“Do not be offended by words, my boy. What do they matter?”

“You can’t simply scatter them either,” Credence objected quietly, finally looking away. He wanted to be annoyed with Percival, but simply couldn’t bring himself to. After all, the man was only easy with words because they truly mattered not, because he sold them. Credence didn’t have a single penny in his pocket to pay for even a syllable. And thus, the words mattered.

“Then speak, Credence. Your words are priceless. And I would love to hear what you have in mind.”

“I…” he stumbled into a wall of silence. Collected words like beads on a thread, carefully and with particular attention. “You asked me why you are doing this, and I think… it’s because you have never truly done it before. Or maybe too long ago to remember. You don’t hug. You aren’t hugged in return. Not for real. Everyone pays you to wash them in lust, while I can’t and won’t ask for it. You want to be hugged as much as… I do.”

Credence bit on his tongue painfully. It wasn’t entirely intended, pouring the truth on Percival’s head. He spoke slowly and with every following word he could feel cold sweat appear on the man’s palms. He squeezed his eyes shut and waited for a slap. A slap always followed when he spoke too much, when he spoke at all.

He whimpered when Percival’s hands slid off his sides. Closed his eyes even tighter and turned his cheek.

But a slap never happened.

Percival’s hand covered his neck warmly, but Credence jerked in his hold from an unexpected touch.

“I hate to say that you are right,” he pressed a hand to his own large forehead and moved it up over slick dark hair. He stepped away and turned to face the fireplace. “I try not to concentrate on such a thought daily. You see, Credence, I am very content with what I’m doing. I shall be frank with you: I enjoy sex. I enjoy being paid for it.”

Credence looked away and embraced himself with shivering arms. Despite the brightly burning fireplace, he felt oddly cold.

“But you are right. Sometimes… I wish I could simply hug. And, perhaps, this is exactly why I’m doing it.”

So simple. Two men in need of a hug because neither had hugged properly before.

Credence couldn’t make himself look at Percival again. Wasn’t sure if he was still welcome in the apartment. The man did say he had another client later, and it almost spurred Credence to leave immediately. His heart was overcome with compassion, however, as he failed to catch his hands when they reached out for Percival.

This time it was Credence who hugged. Hugged with all the strength he could muster, burying nose in Percival’s back and hands grabbing without seeing on the fronts of his shirt. His fingers moved soothingly over a strong body, trying to flood the man with all the gentleness that filled Credence’s own heart.

“You are the one who needs it most, and yet you give it out so freely and willingly,” Percival said quietly, covering Credence’s hands with his own and turning around in their embrace.

“Your hands tell more than you do, Credence.”

Percival kissed the pads of his fingertips gently, avoiding the red lines of angry scars.

Credence carefully freed one hand and brought it up again to trace those beautiful features. Percival’s gentle hold stopped him.

“Could I kiss you now?”

Credence nodded. He closed his eyes and parted his lips, knowing nothing of what a kiss feels like. But when Percival’s mouth touched his, he was certain nothing else could be quite like this feeling. Percival’s lips were gentle and careful, only sucking a little on Credence’s, but the young man felt he wanted it differently. He pushed forward a little, prompting the man to embrace him tight, and pressed his lips hard into Percival’s as if asking him to do the same.

And he did. Neither moved their lips for a second, savouring the hold of each other both within arms and lips.

Credence let out a whimper. It felt too good. It felt happy.

_Thud-thud-thud_.

An unmistakable sound of a door knocker. Credence felt burning disappointment in his chest at the mere sound of it. He wanted to claw into Percival’s shirt, to save him from himself. But he couldn’t deny the man what he liked and what he was paid for. It was his job. And Credence tried to pull away.

Percival’s tight grasp slackened and he let go of the young man, but his lips held on Credence’s for a moment longer.

“I will see you downstairs,” Percival said hoarsely, pulling away at last. Credence looked away flustered. Carefully took his jacket from the floor and with a gentle guidance on his shoulder walked down the stairs with Percival.

The man paused at the door, where both men were swallowed by darkness. Only a small patch of light escaped through the tiny upper window of the door.

_Thud-thud-thud_.

“Let me kiss you again,” Percival pleaded in an ever so quiet whisper, leaning towards Credence. The young man reached out and traced a line from his brow, down the nose, down the desired lips and off the chin.

“No,” he whispered and stepped back. “I mean… Not now. Could I come again?”

He couldn’t see Percival’s eyes in the darkness. But he felt a gentle warm hand on his own, squeezing it a little. A physical “yes”.

His heart melted. His glance moved on the dim silhouette of the door handle which Percival pushed to let in a client.

“You are just on time, my dear,” he said in a voice which made Credence feel like standing in cold shower. Another man appeared on the threshold, the same man from the very first day Credence appeared at this house. The man took off a small hat, bowed to Credence and waited for him to leave.

Before the door closed, Credence could hear through the small crack a quiet “ _What a young gentleman! Where does he get the money from to visit such a man as yourself?_ ”

“Don’t worry, Mr. Abernathy. He is no one.”

 

**March 31, 1926**

_A street lamp flickers oddly, light briefly revealing a roll of newspaper on the porch. Date is May 20, 1921. Title reads: “TO EXPEDITE LIQUOR CASES.; Daugherty Plans Committee of Legal Experts to Consider Legislation.”_

Body pressed to the cold bricks of the building, Credence stood by the house entrance marked with a 12. This time he had no pamphlets in his hands. His back hurt badly and he pressed himself into the coldness of the wall to soothe the pain in belt-painted wounds which his stepmother inflicted. It was the cleansing tool for any wickedness he was accused off, this time of laziness (he tried so hard to give all the pamphlets out, but the day was rainy and disagreeable, keeping people inside their safe apartments). He accepted the beating almost willingly, in addition praying it would beat the memory of Percival from his mind. His mother couldn’t know, or so he had hoped, about the previous visits, more than the two he remembered so vividly. Many have happened in the days between and Credence held onto them as they’ve planted a seed of faint hope in Credence’s heart.

And not only those visits.

Credence’s heart felt warm even in the spring drizzle as he remembered seeing Percival outside on the street. He had a different air about him, his clothes were a contrast to the lack of thereof at home. He approached Credence as he was trying to hand out the Second Salemers’ hateful leaflets. Credence could remember seeing gentle delicate hands touch the tip of the pamphlet, a fleeting touch at his own cold numb fingers. It was unmistakably Percival, who leaned down casually to whisper in Credence’s ear about “meeting at his apartment at 7 tomorrow evening. Could he make it?”

Credence nodded and watched Percival slide out a leaflet from the stack, turn around and walk away with his black coat billowing behind him. Credence watched in awe.

But even his mother’s anger and the lashing belt couldn’t stop Credence from going to 12 Lincoln Street again.

Street dirt clung to the grayish shirt on Credence’s back. The long hand on his battered watch clicked to show five minutes to 7. He forced himself out of the bush shadow and into the flickering street light, shying away from its range as if it was a bad omen.

His fingers brushed the knocker and then decidedly hammered with it on the door surface. Soft thuds called for Percival, and not long after Credence heard the tinkling of a lock.

“Good evening,” Percival smiled at him, pushing the door open and letting hunching Credence in. Fear tugged at him again, making him wonder why he returned. But as the door slammed shut, the way out was cut off.

Credence turned around and looked at Percival. His head swam as he realised that the man was wearing only loose pants. He smelled nicely of a spicy perfume, his hair was done in a careful style. He looked prepared. For him.

Credence wasn’t. Shabby old shirt, same set of trousers, hair messed up in the wind and immense pain in the back where scars decorated the skin. He had nothing to make him look better, _prettier_ , fearing his mother’s wrath if she noticed as much as Credence looking at himself in the mirror for too long.

Those were the thoughts that visited Credence’s mind as he followed Percival upstairs yet again.

His gaze brushed his reflection in a mirror and he quickly patted at his hair, pressing messed up strands into even black layers.

“Does your mother make you wear this haircut?” Percival inquired, delicately moving a lock of Credence’s hair to fit in the hairstyle. He huffed at the mention of his mother.

“Yes. She says it’s easier to cut when my hair grows. I… don’t like it.”

“I think it is quite beautiful. Or rather, your beauty makes the ugly style so much more elegant. Must be the daintiness of your face,” Percival ran a light touch from his prominent cheekbone down the smooth angle of a jaw with one knuckle. His hand rested heavily and warmly on Credence’s shoulder and he revelled in the touch.

The living room was warm and welcoming as Credence followed into it, standing hesitantly by the sofa’s armrest. The room looked a tad bit different than usual, crammed with pillows and lit up by candles instead of gas sconces. The fireplace roared, instantly drying Credence’s sleeves from a freckle of raindrops.

A low coffee table was tempting Credence’s eyes with a variety of snacks. Tiny sandwiches, a fruit bowl, little pastries with jam protruding from the sides. A pot of hot steaming wine, neighbouring to an incense holder which steamed just as heavily, spreading spicy scent in the room.

Credence was awestruck. No one has ever shown him such kindness. It was a charity but with truly good intentions. Why would Percival go to such lengths at all, what could he possibly want from him? He had nothing to give.

A painful twinge of jealousy, a feeling Credence experienced rarely, reminded him that Percival must have been preparing for any client like this. A normal daily routine.

Credence sank slowly onto the sofa, which seemed to be piled with even more cushions than before, their golden fringes brushing at Credence’s hands and thighs. Soft fabric pressed neatly to his back, soothing the pain in his wounds. Percival leaned over the table to pour hot ruby wine into two glasses, one of which he handed over to Credence.

“You seemed to have liked it last time,” Percival said softly, relaxing on a cushion next to Credence with a glass of his own.

“It’s delightful,” he replied gratefully. Tipped the glass and let some of the drink pour into his mouth.

“Treat yourself to some of these,” he brought a plate of jam pastries closer to Credence, offering him to pick one up. Credence took a small pastry and bit on it carefully, feeling the raspberry jam touch his tongue. Percival smiled. “It’s quite good, isn’t it? There’s a new bakery round the street and the owner has quite a knack for pastries.”

Credence shoved the whole treat in his mouth, enjoying the sweet taste. He’d never tried such a food before and planned to enjoy it to the fullest. He gazed at Percival who continued smiling at him. Credence picked up another pastry and moved it closer to the man, offering him a bite.

“I wouldn’t mind,” Percival replied simply, leaning closer to Credence and letting him press the pastry into his mouth. His eyes steadily stared at Credence’s as he bit on the pastry ever so slowly.

Credence shivered. Percival’s tongue flicked against his fingers quite intentionally, making the corners of Percival’s mouth twitch in a wider smile. He swallowed the pastry and Credence reached out for another one, when Percival gave him a small nod.

“Your fingers are all covered in jam.”

“And you have… crumbs on your mouth,” Credence almost lost the strength of voice as he said it, reaching out to wipe a crumb off Percival’s lip. He pressed a finger to his narrow upper lip.

Percival kissed his thumb. And kissed again, lips opening slightly more to catch the fingertip, suck at the sweet raspberry jam. Credence felt his even teeth enclose on the phalanx and bite with a barely painful pressure. Percival’s dark eyes transfixed Credence’s own gaze, his hot mouth moved with his tongue to suck the jam clean.

Percival released his thumb, giving it a tiny bite. They looked at each other, Credence painfully aware from the warmth emanating from the man’s body. Credence leaned in with intention, meeting the man’s mouth and tasting the jam through his kiss. He heard Percival suck in the air loudly, pulling himself closer to Credence and running a hand up his neck. Credence’s fingers gripped on the edges of the glass pastry plate, his breathing paused.

Percival’s mouth tasted so good, even without sweet raspberry jam. His experienced tongue was driving Credence mad and it burnt the heat low inside. Heat he couldn’t, didn’t want to give in to just yet.

Credence pulled away.

“I’m sorry. Could we… pause, just for a moment?”

Percival didn’t move away far, merely tilted his head and gave him a slight nod. His hand still rested on Credence’s neck, a warm and steady protection. An almost possessive hold.

Credence leaned back a little, removing the pastry plate back on the table. He forgot all about the pain in his back which returned in a stinging ache now. He was distracted from concentrating on it, however, when Percival made him laugh quietly as he stretched on the sofa and rested his head in his lap. It was a gesture of such trust, an offering, and Credence was awed by the idea. He ran his hands through Percival’s hair, both men resting and contemplating in silence. His gaze wandered the floor, the intricate pattern of the flat rug. Something caught his attention, a piece of paper with all too familiar lettering peeking from behind the fruit bowl.

He frowned and cleared his throat a little.

“You kept the leaflet.”

“I’ve studied your brochure. An interesting cause,” Percival said, noticing where Credence’s gaze wandered. His insides twisted unpleasantly at the idea that Percival could support their cause. “But I can’t believe you support it. It’s as vile as it is ridiculous, and you wouldn’t defend it.”

Percival gently took Credence’s hands in his own, caressing his wrists.

“Look at this tortured skin. If anything, it tells me you would hate the banners of the Second Salem church.”

His fingers, still hot from holding the drink, gently rubbed Credence’s scars. His hand reached out and he caught a hold of Credence’s cheek.

“I’m such a greedy man, Credence. I have to ask you for a kiss.”

He shifted himself up and pulled Credence into his lap, at which he yelped in surprise. Credence rested his hands on Percival’s neck, running fingers into his hair again, feeling and holding soft strands of his peculiar hairstyle.

They were so close, breathtakingly close. But Credence wanted to be even closer, shifted in Percival’s lap, eager to leave no space between their bodies but just as eager to fulfil Percival’s request, and pressed his lips to the man’s. He could taste the jam again, the spicy wine. For a mere moment he pulled away from the man’s lips to look at his flushed face. It was enough to make Credence move forward once more and crush their mouths together.

Percival’s kisses were intoxicating, even a moment away from his touch was unbearable and that was, perhaps, the reason why Credence returned to him and was ready to return again, should Percival ask him or allow him to.

It was all different with Percival. He neither scolded nor judged. He asked the right questions and always gave what Credence thought were honest answers. And he had to admit, though with burning red cheeks, that Percival’s kisses drove him mad. And he wouldn’t change that for the wide world.

Percival broke the kiss and instead touched Credence’s nose in an eskimo kiss.

“You are a gentle flower, Credence. I admit I’m afraid I might break your delicate petals. You return here time and again, always so eager. What if I pull the leaves away from your flower only to reveal thorns?”

Credence’s eyes fluttered open and he gave Percival a confused smile, never meeting his eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“Forgive my allegories. All I want to say is that you are not making any sense, Credence. You are…” Credence closed his eyes again as Percival’s palm cupped his cheek. “You are so pure. Your hands speak of weary cruelty, but you are unbroken. And at the end of the day, knowing full well of dangers, you come to me. I can’t promise anything, I can’t commit to anything but pleasure, and yet you come to me.”

Credence turned to kiss Percival’s palm, both to soothe him and to calm his own madly beating heart. It was a cold sharp truth which gnawed at Credence’s insides even as Percival intoxicated him with loving touches. There had always been the fear of discovery. The fear of being a toy which would be tossed away, should something go wrong. He was indeed never promised anything.

But he wanted to concentrate on the present rather than the future. The present beheld the most wonderful feelings that he savoured bit by bit, unwilling to let go and remembering every single touch and word.

“What is it you seek with me, Credence?”

Credence said nothing. His chest felt hollow at the idea of confronting the fears he drowned in Percival’s being. Perhaps, it was the answer.

“Oblivion,” he murmured, lips millimeters away from Percival’s. His tongue pushed wetly into the man’s mouth, and Percival replied, his mouth pliant and hot and wet, making Credence press into him further. His tongue flicked at Percival’s, _licked_ rather, sending a thousand shivers down Credence’s body as he enjoyed the feeling.

Percival’s hand moved and tugged at Credence’s shirt which was messily tucked behind the belt of his pants.

Credence froze, his fingers clawing at Percival’s collar. He pulled away slowly, cautiously, looking at Percival with an interrogatory stare. The man bestowed a small smile upon him.

“I may have had another intention behind my words, Credence. You are a beautiful gentle flower, much like I said. And I do want to touch you and see how you shiver when I do.”

As Percival’s fingers sneaked under the cotton folds, hot fingertips pressing at Credence’s bare skin, he continued showering him with bland praises which soon made Credence’s pale face turn a deeper shade of red.

“You are unexplored, Credence. I can only imagine what things I could do to you. Your every single first time - and it would be mine. I feel privileged,” he spoke slowly and in a drawling manner, finally sliding his hand under Credence’s shirt and wandering his back.

Credence hissed when he touched a raw scar.

Percival’s hand hovered and paused.

“Shhh, it’s okay, Credence,” Percival shushed him. Credence felt relief as fingers lifted off his wounds. He could see Percival frowning and suddenly his hands were on Credence’s shirt, sliding buttons out of their holes. Panic rose in his chest as he clutched at Percival’s hands.

“W-what are you doing?”

“Your back is cut raw, Credence. I am not going to do anything to hurt you. Quite the opposite,” Percival gave him a worried stern look before pulling his hands away and continuing to open his shirt up. By the time he reached the last few, he almost ripped them open. There was anger on his face.

Credence whimpered. He didn’t want Percival to be mad at him. He closed his eyes and felt his shoulders hunch almost painfully. His body was ugly and he was at the man’s mercy.

He cowered and twitched when Percival’s hand lowered on his cheek.

“Credence. Look at me, please.”

Credence opened his eyes which traitorously filled with tears.

“Never. I will never hurt you, Credence.”

His eyes were full of concern, a look Credence had never seen addressed at him before. Percival’s hands squeezed his and Credence, overcome with emotions he couldn’t name still, leaned in and pressed a small kiss onto Percival’s lips before letting him return to the task at hand. Credence sat awestruck in his lap, giving in and letting the man slide the shirt off his shoulders.

Something fleetingly changed Percival’s expression as he looked over Credence’s chest. He himself looked down to see pale, almost white smooth skin. Percival’s fingers gently caressed his collarbone and the expression lifted.

“I cannot see you well like this. I have a medical box by my vanity. Let’s move there.”

Percival prompted him to get up and walk towards the vanity by the bed, the bed which Credence eyed with his heart missing a few beats. He wanted to see if it was soft, would it creak under his weight.

Percival’s hand squeezed his shoulder and Credence’s attention snapped back to reality. The man seated him before the mirror, which was much larger than the entrance one. Immediately Credence’s attention was drawn towards the many face products, cut edges of perfume bottles, a cigar case, belonging to one of Percival’s clients, no doubt, as the man seemed to be a non-smoker. There were small square packs with a round silhouette inside that Credence recognized as condoms and cream-coloured bottles of gel. He quickly flicked his gaze away and towards his own reflection, now staring at the faint blush on his cheeks.

Percival stood behind him, two heavy hands on Credence’s shoulders. His bare chest made Credence look up all too often, only drawing more blood to his cheeks.

“I imagine you don’t get to see yourself often,” Percival squeezed his shoulders lovingly. “Well, look all you want here. It’s a beautiful image.”

Credence fluttered his eyelashes, looking away from the reflection, but Percival’s hand prevented him. He kept his eyes closed as the man placed an index finger on his jaw and traced a slow line along it. Credence breathed out shakily, drinking in the feeling of a soft touch.

“Let’s help your back, Credence,” Percival said hoarsely, withdrawing his hands hesitantly and searching the side drawers for a small metal box with a red cross on it. As soon as the cover popped off with Percival’s help, a whiff of medicine hit Credence’s nose. He looked into the box where small brown glass bottles, bandages and other useful items were lined in neat rows. Percival picked up a bottle with clear liquid which he poured richly on a pad.

“It will sting a little, but in a few minutes your pain will subdue and the wounds will heal faster.”

Cool liquid dripped down Credence’s spine and he arched, hissing, as it mixed into his wounds. Percival shushed him, planted gentle kisses on his shoulder as he carefully pushed the pad over Credence’s wounds.

Until the next moment there was no pad anymore, but Percival’s kisses continued all over the line of Credence’s shoulder. He stared at the reflection hungrily, eyes wide and earnest. His breathing was fast and uneven as he was melting under Percival’s kisses.

He found himself reaching up and pressing hands to Percival’s face, guiding him to where he wanted to be kissed, and the man obliged, eagerly indulging his opened up neck. Credence was silent at first, too concentrated on what Percival was doing to him, until one moment he could bear it no more. It set his body ablaze and he moaned, making Percival almost bite into his skin, where his voice vibrated.

And there was another thing he became painfully aware of. Strained hard against his trousers, his cock was bulging under the fabric, leaking through and making Credence mentally beg for a release.

He whimpered and moaned when Percival’s hands began roaming his chest and he let out an almost embarrassing moan out loud, making Percival stop.

“Don’t hesitate to do what you think might help you,” he growled in his ear as if guessing what was bothering Credence. And then his hands caught Credence’s chin and cupped his face, pushed into his mouth in an immediate passionate kiss.

Credence couldn’t cope with what began overwhelming him. Tentatively, his hand wandered down and into his trousers. He all but cried when he got hold of his cock, immediately sliding a hand down his flesh. It was both a relief and a promise.

“That's it, my boy, keep going.”

Percival growled into his neck and Credence's head swam from the beautiful reflection they presented.

“We need to make you blush, Credence,” he prompted Credence to get up and instead sat on the chair himself, settling Credence in his lap. His hands busied with unbuckling his trousers. Credence bit on his lower lip and looked in the mirror. He was already flushed and his eyes looked feverish.

And then he saw himself twitch and gasp when Percival’s hand found its way into his underwear.

“Oh Credence, look at you, already so big and hard. Don't you want to touch yourself again?” Percival sounded hoarse as he rubbed the length of Credence over the fabric. Credence squirmed on him and gasped out a ‘ _yes_ ’. He couldn't wait for fingers to wrap around him once more, make him come because the blissful edge seemed so near.

Percival hummed in acknowledgement and torturingly slowly pushed his hand into Credence's underwear, pulling his hard cock out, spreading pre-cum all over it.

“Look how beautiful you are, my dear boy,” Percival’s hand slowly pumped him, while Credence was left to look in burning embarrassment at his own reflection. But he loved it. The way Percival also looked at him and the things he said. The way his hand rested steadily on his neck, sure to leave a sizzling white shadow of a touch.

“How pretty is this full mouth. So red and desirable. And all for me to kiss.”

Credence realized he had been still biting on his lips which indeed were reddened. Percival turned his head and covered his mouth hotly, tongue sliding in at once and brushing the back of his teeth, sending him to a whole new level of pleasure.

It was hurting madly but in the best way possible, his cock slick with pre-cum and stone hard in Percival’s steady loving hand. He pumped him slowly all the while kissing him deep. Credence's throat vibrated with a moan.

“Do you want to do it yourself Credence? I would very much enjoy watching.”

Credence got a hold of his own cock and with a hard grip began pumping himself while the tense pleasure remained.

“Look, Credence,” Percival leaned on his head and made him turn to the mirror. Credence faced his own feverish reflection, mouth hanging open a little and head moved forward just an inch in determination. He could look no longer, threw his head back on Percival’s shoulder and let out a moan which sounded more like a cry. Percival rubbed the inner side of his thighs, adding to the stimulation.

“Don’t stop for a moment, Credence. You are so beautiful and trust me, you have something to be rather proud of. I can’t wait to hold you in my hand again, in my mouth and watch you squirm. Watch you come undone and be a beautiful mess that you are.”

And then he hit it. Suddenly, violently, letting out raspy noises of a moan and coming over his bare chest. He wanted to thrash about as his body was letting go, and Percival kissed his shoulder now with gentle fondness, taking a napkin to clean him up.

“My beautiful boy,” he muttered as Credence rested on his shoulder and coming out of the aftershocks. “My beautiful boy.”

 

**April 7, 1926**

_The folded newspaper is on a small round hall table. The front page faces upwards and reads: “BRITISH COAL STRIKE NEAR SETTLEMENT; Miners and Owners Reach Provisional Agreement; Men MayBe at Work …”_

Coming to Percival’s apartment has become an addiction for Credence. Every few days his feet would find their way to 12 Lincoln Street. He knew when Percival didn’t have any clients and Credence noticed he almost never stumbled into anyone before his own visit. Brushing it off as a mere schedule issue, he concentrated on what visits to Percival meant.

Right now, they meant a whole world to Credence. The apartment has become a home of sorts, a place, where he felt so much more welcome than at his own home. He didn’t have to cower, his heart didn’t clench when he heard his name - in fact, it blossomed and opened up a little more by day.

It was an odd feeling, Credence admitted. Having feelings for someone who sold their body was just as ridiculous as loving a man who would never love you back. Credence tried to brush it off as well, instead drinking in what goodness this relationship brought.

That warm summer night, when the sun had not yet hidden behind the ragged line of a city horizon, Credence found Percival dressed in a short bathrobe made from dark blue silk. He held a cup of green tea in one hand, another stretched out to invite Credence in for an embrace.

Credence walked swiftly forward to nuzzle in Percival’s shoulder for a moment.

“Hi.”

“Good evening,” Percival mouthed in his lips, granting him a welcoming kiss. He tasted like green tea and lemons and Credence held the kiss for a split second longer. The silk of Percival’s robe caressed his hands and he rested them on his shoulders after pulling away. The man smiled.

“Did you have a good day? You are beaming.”

“I’m just… happy to see you,” Credence looked down on Percival’s chest which was showing off hairy skin through a crack between silken folds.

“I am happy to see you too, Credence. Care for a cup of green tea?”

Credence shook his head and tugged at his collar. Percival’s apartment faced a sunny side and was dimly painted with sunset light which came from behind a heavy red curtain. That day’s heat from the roads and the sun seemed to have seeped into the room as well, making it hot. The fireplace was out and the gas sconces didn’t shine, leaving the apartment to dull atmosphere. Credence found it natural and peaceful and liked it even better than what the candle-lit darkness had to offer.

He wandered about, answering Percival’s casual questions about what exactly brightened up his mood after all (he confessed it was the good weather and his mother’s surprisingly good attitude). There was something odd about the apartment, Credence thought, as if something was lacking in the air. Everything was neat and cleaned up and even the bed was made up, a stack of fringed cushions towering on top of it.

He glanced at the vanity and bit on the inner side of his cheeks, trying not to smile. It was a good place to remember. It was a start.

He approached one of the curtains and turned around to Percival, one hand tugging at it lightly.

“Could I open it?”

Percival leaned off the sofa he was standing at and walked towards Credence. He blushed and immediately turned away - Percival’s robe belt unknotted and slid to the sides, making the robe open. Percival was naked underneath it, sending blood to Credence’s cheeks.

He looked away to the curtain and hid his gaze. Percival’s low chuckle was near his ear now as the man stood by his side and placed a hand on the neighbouring curtain.

“Does it frighten you?” he said hoarsely. Credence shook his head. Percival stepped a little bit closer, letting go of the curtain. “How would you feel if I took the robe off entirely?”

Credence stuttered.

“I… I don’t mind.”

He didn’t. Not that he would look, but he would, because Percival was beautiful and desirable and he wanted to know what was it that attracted so many people to his body. Percival’s hand ran forward to cup his cheek.

“Why don’t we make it a fair game? You will feel so much more comfortable with me naked if you undressed too.”

Credence’s eyes shot upwards to stare at the man in awe. He couldn’t even bring himself to look away, hand pressed firmly to his cheek and eye contact hooking and bewitching.

“Trust me, Credence. I tried it before. Once. When I myself couldn’t undress before someone. This is what they said and they were right.”

Credence placed a hand over Percival’s.

“Did you trust them?”

Percival’s smile seemed touched with sadness as he looked down at Credence, but in the end, he nodded.

“I will then. I…”

What he wanted to say he himself didn’t know for there were no words to express it. Did he want to press himself against Percival’s skin, his own body accessible and undressed? Oh he did, his chest heaved with a sigh at the thought of it. But he wouldn’t dare say it out loud. His lips never pronounced a single dirty thought, suppressing them to gestures and ragged breathing.

Percival stepped even closer now, looking down at Credence. He tilted his head and pressed a kiss to Credence’s throat, continuing a trail down to where the first shirt button prevented him from going further. Percival’s lips were searing hot, exploring, and Credence wanted them to continue their path. He fumbled with the button, another one, letting Percival kiss him more. Without a jacket it was easier to access him, and Credence continued pulling at buttons to remove them and bare his chest. His long arms slid out of the shirt and it was lying in a mess on the floor.

As he looked down there, while Percival kissed and bit at his skin everywhere, Credence realised that the messed up shirt reminded him of his first visit. A small “oh” rounded his mouth. It wasn’t only because of a vague memory but because one of Percival’s hands reached down to the zip of his pants, consequently grazing the sensitive bulge under the fabric. He pushed into the touch, holding onto Percival’s shoulder.

Percival’s fingers left his growing bulge and instead rested on both sides of his neck, warm and fingers caressing. Credence tugged at the sides of Percival’s robe, making it slide off his shoulders easily with a whisper of a swish. There he was, absolutely undressed and all for Credence to see.

He looked. Couldn’t look away because Percival was beautiful and was there for him alone. As if the world had stopped going by, that apartment held the couple in protection, a small bubble of happiness and mutual affection neither could deny.

Credence leaned down awkwardly and pushed at his own trousers. All that was left was his underwear.

“I can help if you are scared,” Percival muttered in his ear. Credence flushed even more, stealing a glance down. Percival was hard and Credence swallowed saliva at the thought that it was his presence to cause it. He made Percival hard.

A stuttering chuckle broke out of his chest. Percival smiled.

“Do I look funny?”

“No. You look…” Credence searched for an appropriate enough word but couldn’t come up with one. Perhaps, his lips were still at the border between innocence and lust and didn’t want to spell such words that visited Credence’s mind. Instead, he shifted uneasily and slipped out of the last piece of clothing.

Percival’s hands carefully wrapped around Credence’s waist, bringing him closer. Flesh against flesh, skin against skin. There was nothing to hide and no way to do it, and neither wanted to. Percival leaned down and kissed him. Slowly and yet passionately, that passion which was expressed in a soft yearning caress rather than frantic movements.

Holding Credence in a tight embrace, lips never breaking the kiss, Percival led him to his bed. With one hand he destroyed the pillow pyramid, making way for Credence to lie down.

The bed creaked a little. It was the final warning sound for Credence to realise what was about to happen. He shivered in anticipation.

Percival hovered over him, hot matte red lips pulled in a smile. Gracefully and yet heavily he leaned down to Credence again before leaving a wet trail over his skin down to his stomach. Credence felt his body respond in hollowing his stomach and making him painfully hard. Heat pooled deep down and he pushed his legs a little together, eager for any sort of friction. Percival returned up his body, learning him, teasing him. His tongue flicked over and around Credence’s nipple before teeth could get a painful hold of it. Credence moaned and writhed and blushed while Percival got acquainted with him all over, not one inch of his marble skin left unnoticed.

Minutes later when Credence felt all red, exposed and… loved, Percival was lying next to him, kissing his neck and biting on his skin. Credence could feel the man’s hard cock against his skin and he shifted a little, closing the space between their bodies.

“My boy, I will need to prepare you,” Percival said when he reached for one of the clear bottles on his vanity. Credence wasn't entirely sure what it meant, but nodded. Percival smiled and suddenly crushed their mouths in a desperate kiss.

“Your innocence drives me mad. Your first time and it's mine,” his voice was joyful. He pulled away from Credence’s bitten lips and he could see a strange loving expression on Percival’s face. Loving. He spread a hand over Credence's cheek and tilted his head in admiration. “I promise to make you feel good.”

Percival slid the hand down Credence's cheek and ran it over his chest. It was warm and ensuring trust, and Credence pushed into the touch, his stomach hollow and chest heaving.

The gel Percival chose made a weird smacking noise as the man dove two fingers into it, scooping some and stirring it a little between his fingers. He gracefully slid down the bed and prompted Credence to move closer to its edge. He complied, letting Percival hold him by one leg.

And then he felt the cooling touch of the gel and Percival’s fingers at his hole and then inside. Credence whimpered, receiving a gentle shush.

“Shhhhh, Credence. I will be careful. You will see.”

He was careful indeed, sliding easily one finger inside. Credence felt odd but it wasn't unpleasant. He squirmed a little, eager for the feeling to intensify.

“You are wonderful, do you know that, Credence. Pliant and beautiful. All for me to discover,” Percival showered him in praise as he slowly worked him, sliding another finger in and some moments later another one. Credence felt he wanted it more, deeper, and pushed on Percival’s fingers. The man crooked them and Credence gasped, grabbing the blanket on the bed. It was unexpected but wonderful and now he wanted more.

Credence looked down and saw Percival’s face change from a loving smile to a flushed reddened face, biting on his lips. His cock was twitching and looking painfully hard. Just that image sent Credence into light ecstasy. He couldn't believe _he_ did it to Percival.

The man slid the fingers out. He caressed the insides of Credence's thighs and mumbled more praise in such a distracted hoarse voice that it betrayed the want the man had been going mad with.

Credence felt Percival’s hands steady on his thighs as he spread him and moved closer. He wanted to close his eyes, close away his face but then he wouldn’t see it happen. And so he watched how Percival, his beautiful face lined with a frown, wrapped Credence’s legs around his torso and pushed in.

Bliss. Credence’s mouth rounded and he bit on his lip painfully when Percival entered him. It was slow and torturing and even painful but as soon as the whole of Percival’s cock was inside, Credence couldn’t think properly any longer. He sat up a little, hands holding tightly on a fluffy blanket, and breathed out shakily when Percival moved out a little and thrusted in again. Credence could no longer tear away his gaze from Percival’s face. The face that had always been relaxed, seductive, handsome, was now in a state of full concentration and utter bliss. His cheeks flushed harder with every movement, and Credence revelled in what he was doing to Percival.

The thrusts were getting faster and Credence whined and moaned quietly, feeling the throbbing of a cock in him.

“Fuck,” Percival’s voice was throaty as he swore. His movements became even faster and Credence jerked when Percival’s cock hit the right spot inside him. He moaned out loudly, fingers digging hard into the blanket.

It wasn’t enough.

His hand closed around his own cock and he started frantically pumping himself, leading his body to the edge of final pleasure.

“Credence, you are wonderful,” Percival said as he thrusted into him, one hand resting on Credence's stomach. Credence bit on his own lips and kept on jerking at his own cock, hurting with want. Pleasure was unbearable, both on his flesh and inside him.

Percival must have too been ecstatic as soon he lowered himself on Credence, biting on his nipples and pushing inside him, while ragged moans left his mouth.

And then Credence felt it as Percival moaned out louder. He pushed fully into Credence's bottom, made him slide into the bed and paused a little, coming inside him, full weight of his body crushing him. Credence felt himself fall over the edge as he craved for an orgasm to come and pumped himself violently.

Percival continued pushing into him, gel and seed mixed together and dripping from Credence's hole. He shut his eyes tight and touched himself without any mercy, finally reaching the edge. White streaked his and Percival’s stomach and Credence moaned in relief. Bliss.

 

**May 11, 1926**

_The newspaper is on a stack of others, crumpled and ruffled on the sides. The title reads “MEXICAN RAIL STRIKE OFF.; Several Unions Vote to Continue Work Pending Wage Settlement”._

Credence snuggled up in the armchair, pulling his legs up and feeling small and content in the comfort of Percival’s apartment. His clothes were neatly folded on a small stool by the bed foot. It was the third night he undressed at Percival’s as per their small established rule. Credence was secretly glad about it, for even with his skin bare he felt most secure with Percival so close to him. How much trust had this man inspired, that even being completely without clothing Credence barely felt any shame.

The man in question was fiddling with something on the other side of the room where the vanity stood, and Credence waited for him to return, wondering what idea the man came up with today for their… shenanigans. He leaned back patiently, feeling the soft cover of the armchair warm his bare back, folds caressing his spine.

Finally Graves’ bare feet shuffled over fluffy rugs and he sat by the young man’s side, bringing something up to his face.

“Pearls,” Credence mumbled uncertainly, looking at the string of yellowish beads before his eyes.

“You deserve no less, my boy.”

Words fell from his lips like worship. Percival slipped the necklace between his lips, eye contact unwavering and trained straight at Credence. The young man swallowed. It was mesmerizing to watch how a masterful tongue licked at the gleaming spheres, how teeth fit between the beads.

“Do you think we could have fun with it, Credence?” Graves kissed the necklace before letting it hang loose in the air in front of the young man like bait. Bait he willingly caught.

“What do you have in mind, sir?”

Graves took the necklace by both ends and brought it to Credence's neck as if trying to see how it fits. Credence shifted in his seat, leaning forward a little. He felt a whiff of breath on his cheek, warm and pleasant. Graves’ face hovered beside his own but the desired lips never landed a kiss on his cheek. Graves pulled away and acted out a frown, a rather comedic one at that, and clicked his tongue.

“Tsk-tsk, doesn't quite fit here. Could we try here?”

The tip of his nose touched Credence’s fleetingly, and the man moved away. He carefully took the young man’s hand and brought it up for a kiss. Credence looked down at him from the chair, not sure when exactly Graves knelt before him. Percival’s hands looped the necklace once around Credence's wrist. It was ticklish and playful and Credence smiled, receiving an impish smile in return. The necklace slid off his wrist, however.

“No, this is not quite right either. What if…”

He grinned at the young man. Credence shifted in the armchair again, his heartbeat increasing immediately and harshly, pounding at his ribs and deafening his head. It was too easy to read Percival’s mind: his glance and a mischievous smile in the corners of his mouth made it all too clear what he had in mind. And just this thought invigorated Credence.

Graves looked down to where Credence's cock was standing hard.

“I think this is perfect.”

Credence twitched when the slightly wet surface of the pearls touched him. Carefully and slowly Graves wrapped the necklace around Credence's cock, not too tight and not too loose, fixing a clasp somewhere round his balls.

Graves’ face was set in a jaunty expression, his thick eyebrows arched a little and his mouth opened a bit. He tilted his head teasingly and Credence moved forward impatiently, making the man chuckle.

“How keen you are, my boy,” he licked at his lips, watching a blush appear on Credence’s usually pale cheeks. The young man looked away. What a tease Mr. Graves could be!

“You are so beautiful,” Percival whispered, smiling at him and kissing his leaking head. Credence couldn't decide what to do with all the feelings washing all over him, from the force of pleasure to shyness. Graves didn't look away for a moment when he softly pushed his mouth onto Credence. The tight hotness of his mouth was welcoming and Credence hissed, throwing his head back. Graves’ tongue made the pearls roll over sensitive skin, making Credence grip onto the chair's armrests. Graves moved back slowly, eyes still focused on Credence's, and licked the whole length of him.

A pathetic moan left Credence’s mouth. Accepting it as a “please, don’t stop” Graves swallowed him again, carefully making the pearls intensify the pleasure of touch Credence was receiving. His hands darted forward to grab onto Percival’s hair, but the man pinned his hands down to the armchair’s seat. Credence whined, left to writhe and endure while Graves sucked every bit of his skin.

Credence was mad at himself for being as he was. He loved the long pleasures Percival gave him sometimes, taught him to hold back, but that very moment he was ready to come undone within half a minute. Was it the exciting experiment, the general desire or his simple eagerness to hit the peak, he didn’t know. All he _did_ know was that Mr. Graves’ mouth unhinged him in the best ways possible.

He arched and pushed up from the armchair, thrusting his cock into Percival’s hot mouth. If only he could free his hands and slide his fingers in the man’s hair, but Graves wouldn’t allow it.

“Please,” Credence sobbed when Graves’ mouth managed to pull at the pearl string in such a way that it slid over the young man’s cock’s head.

All his muscles went tense as he shattered in a wave of orgasm. His throbbing cock left Percival’s mouth and streaked his face with a string of pearls of his own, shamelessly and uncontrollably. All Credence could do was hold onto the creases of a soft armchair cover and choke down the moans which strangled his chest.

***

Credence, who was lying on top of Percival, looked down at the man who was playing with a sweaty lock of his front hair, brushing it over his forehead. His other hand was resting on Credence’s back, a thumb rubbing his skin gently. Both men were breathing steadily, softly, and Credence’s heart clenched at the feeling of Percival’s heart beating under his own. A heavy blanket was drawn over them, enveloping the couple in warmth, sweat, the smell of sex and love.

“You are a miracle, Credence,” Percival said softly, melting Credence’s heart. He only smiled in return, a lazy pleased smile which incurred a returned one from Percival. Credence shifted a little bit, his ankles sliding over Percival’s, and felt the touch of a golden anklet on his skin.

Credence bit on his own lip and contemplated before resting his chin on the man’s chest.

“Could I ask you a question?”

Percival tilted his head.

“Of course. What is it?”

“How did you become… You know. When did you start offering… yourself to other people?”

Percival’s eyes wandered Credence’s face in slight amusement and even surprise, his thick eyebrows raised just a little.

“Are you really interested in hearing it? My story?”

“Of course. You know so much about me, yet I know so little about you. Seems unfair,” Credence slid off Percival and settled beside him, his face turned to listen to the man. He placed a warm hand on his shoulder and leaned down to plant a small kiss.

“Very well,” Percival chuckled lowly and placed an arm under his head to start the tale.

Credence breathed in, out and closed his eyes.

“I wasn’t always an escort, Credence. There was time when I was young and silly and the world was much more cruel to such people as myself. As a young man of eighteen I had enough fortune after my father passed away to start a business. It was nice for a time. I ran a tailor shop, believe it or not, providing attire to those who knew how to wear it best. I wallowed in money and respect. Until the war arrived.”

“Did you have to serve?” Credence looked up a little.

“Mhm. Sent for service in the United Kingdom. Left all my fortune in a bank, closed the shop and departed to fight for the safety of people. It was where I met a man. Theseus… A good man, undoubtedly. Noble. He was born and raised in Britain and served with remarkable patriotism. I must admit I admired him a great deal. We served side by side for many a month, shared many good tales. He left me a token. A small golden coin as a memento of our friendship.”

Percival’s face was no longer smiling, but sad, his brows furrowed. Credence was rubbing circles over his shoulder, nose touching it and lips kissing. Percival reached out and turned an arm about Credence’s shoulder, drawing him even closer.

“After the war we returned to the New York together. My faithful friend wanted to rest after the action. As it turned out, both of us had been considered KIA. All my savings went to my uncle, who lost it all in unlucky bank bets. Thus I was left with no fortune and no home to invite my friend to. And this is where he uncovered the truth about the small golden coin to me. That back in Britain he used to provide certain services to men and women alike who were ready to pay. He was hesitant to offer me such an activity in order to restore my fortune. But… I wanted it. Strangely enough, I wanted it. He introduced me to someone he knew in the States, someone who was ready to pay money as soon as they saw me. She was rich and powerful. So… I went to her. And never stopped ever since.”

Credence looked up at Percival again, eyes of both men touched by sadness. Percival drew Credence closer again.

“My friend returned to Britain weeks later. I was grateful. And I missed him. Wanted to keep his memory close. And thus I took the golden coin and had it melt and made into an anklet. A reminder of a good friendship and of where my new life began.”

***

Credence left an hour later, his heart light and filled with joy. Percival saw him to the entrance and kissed him under the spring shower, their lips sharing a wet rain-full kiss. As Credence turned to step down the stairs, his heart sank.

His mother was watching from afar, her piercing black eyes giving Credence a promise that this must have been the last time he and Percival met.

 

**May 12, 1926**

_The wind blows the newspaper away and it wis propelled wildly into the gust, flashing the date of May 12, 1926 and a big headline, “SAYS PEACE OFFER IS MADE TO IRELAND; Ex-Mayor of Dublin Asserts He Got Proposal for Full Dominion Rule.LONDON…”_

Whip. Slap. Whip.

“Why did she have to find out?” a fleeting thought in Credence’s pain-blinded mind. He cried soundlessly and almost without a motion, only his body responding with a jerk when a belt crossed his skin. Tears pooled in the corners of his eyes and slid in an even stream down his reddened tired face.

 

**May 13, 1926**

_Newspaper boy cycles past the Second Salem church without stopping for a moment, a stack of newspapers in his bicycle’s basket._

Immense pain in his back. Tears drying his eyes because they’d cried too much and ran out of liquid. Credence lay on his stomach, one arm hanging off the edge of the bed, gaze staring into nowhere and prayers tingling on lips to stop the pain from cutting his flesh. His mother’s punishments had long stopped but he could still hear the swish of the belt cutting through the air in his ears.

 

**June 3, 1926**

_An old gentleman sits on the bench not far from where the Second Salemers stand to give out the leaflets. He is reading a newspaper, which screams at the passers-by with a headline, “GREGORY FIRM INDICTED.; Stock-Seiling Circulars Described Remarkable Tires.”_

It was, perhaps, a cruel trick his mother aimed at him, thrusting a thick stack of leaflets in his hands and placing him on the side street where 12 Lincoln was visible just enough for Credence to see. He couldn’t dare return home without giving them all out.

Credence let one pamphlet slide out of his hands as a passer-by took it.

His heart clenched when the door of Percival’s house opened, letting a man in a black long coat walk out.

“Percival,” he muttered under his breath. Modesty, who was standing just beside him, her soft hands holding a stack of leaflets akin to his own, looked at Credence.

“Ma said you are not to talk to anyone, Credence.”

“I know. I wasn’t,” he replied, his back scars tingling as if in a reminder of what he wasn’t meant to do. Don’t speak, don’t look, don’t even think of reaching out. But his eyes eagerly latched on Percival’s retreating shape, watching him disappear around the corner and leaving no hope for possible escape.

His eyes stung with tears.

 

**July 5, 1926**

_A newspaper is fueling the woodburner on the level floor of the Second Salem church._

Modesty sat on the counter by Credence’s side as he washed the dishes in cold water. He looked and felt rather melancholic, matching the weather outside. But even in his hunched stance he had an unbreaking sturdy hope which dwindled only a little. A hope that some day he would break free to reunite with Percival. If Percival wanted.

His heart clenched.

“I was at that house today. That house you are always watching. Do you know someone there, Credence?” Modesty said in her shrill voice.

He almost dropped the plate but caught it right before it could explode in thousands of tinkling sounds.

“No. Just… looking. But why are you bringing it up?”

“I saw a drama there today. A tall man was shouting at another one and told him to never come back. They were so loud that many people turned to look. And I did too.”

Credence frowned. Could it be Percival?

He carefully placed a plate into the dryer and picked up the next one, pushing it into water. He carefully tried to make his voice sound as casual as possible.

“Have you by any chance seen other people going there for drama?”

“Not really. But when I stand there, people seem to come inside for just mere minutes before going outside again. It’s strange, a little bit. They always look angry. Do you think there’s a new shop?”

Credence smiled at the plates and shrugged.

“A shop, most certainly.”

 

**December 24, 1926**

_A newspaper is rather a business leaflet, thrown into a garbage bin by a passer-by. There are no dates, only dry lines, one of which reads, “Quebec Central Surplus Is $469,667”._

Christmas Eve New York differed from other days of the year. Credence could feel delicious smells coming from the apartments, their windows flickering with colourful light bulbs inside. There was sweet distant singing somewhere in a nearby church and Credence hummed alongside it, religious lyrics engraved into his mind with years. He saw people hurrying to see their friends and families, gift boxes tucked in the crooks of their arms.

Credence had no gifts to offer, but was heading to meet someone nonetheless.

Nausea took his insides in a twisted knot, holding him on the verge of breaking down. With every step he took, he could feel the trembling in his limbs. Anticipation held him hostage just as much as anxiety.

It nearly broke him when he arrived at the corner of 12 Lincoln Street, hands clenching and unclenching in uncertain fists. To his relief, the lights in Percival’s apartment were lit. And to his surprise - the curtains were open.

His eyes looked eagerly inside the apartment, seeking out the silhouette of a man. But he was nowhere to be seen and Credence had only one hope left.

For the first time he walked up the stairs with complete confidence. With just as much confidence, before anxiety could take over him like the very first time he stepped on the threshold that fateful night, he took a hold of the knocker and used it to thud on the door.

It didn’t open immediately. He knocked again and again until he could hear steps inside. The door swung open.

Percival froze with his mouth hanging open to speak, yet no words came out.

“Percival,” Credence said, shifting on his spot. He bit on his lips and searched for words which once again, much like during their first encounter, evaded his mind. He gathered what scattered thoughts remained and spoke. “I ran away. Forever, I mean, not for the night. To stay. If you want.”

Percival’s face had a strange mixed expression Credence dared not read. He was too afraid to mistake the furrowed brows for yearning, the pressed lips for worry and the widened irises for attachment.

“It’s Christmas night,” Percival said at last, holding onto the door frame weakly. “I don’t have company.”

“I could keep you company. If you want. Me. I mean…”

Credence stumbled over the words and shook his head. Before he knew it, Percival pulled him inside the apartment, drawing a line between the cold and the warm, the dark and the light, the alone and together. His arms wrapped tightly around Credence and he breathed heavily in his shoulder.

“Where have you been?” he asked hoarsely, running a hand into Credence’s hair.

“It’s Mother. She kept me in the church. Watched and guarded me… It’s Christmas tonight, and she was busy. I took my chance. And ran.”

“To me. My beautiful boy ran to me,” Percival’s voice exploded with soft laughter and joy as he tried to lay his hands everywhere he could reach, as if he couldn’t believe Credence was truly there. And Credence mirrored him, laughed just as softly and kissed just as sweetly, giving Percival a promise to never leave him again.

 

**December 25, 1926**

_Newspaper boys are at home, opening up their gifts. The papers will arrive later this Christmas morning, to announce that “FEW DENIED SEATS BY TICKET FRAUDS; Twenty Engravers Examined All Offered and Counterfeits Were Scarce. …”._

The sun rose over the city, drowning it in its morning glory. Credence watched it shine through the window, a long patch of light creeping upon the blanket he and Percival were lying under. He savoured the moment, afraid of moving, lest it break and turn into a feverish beautiful night dream.

The apartment looked different when the sconces were turned off, the fireplace didn’t burn and the darkness didn’t obscure the space. Credence’s eyes hungrily learnt all the details they could spot from the bed. The golden pillow fringes seemed brighter in the sun, the bed’s wooden polished frame gleamed almost warmly.

And Percival. He looked rested, his chest heaving in soft measures of breath as he slept into the morning. It must have been an illusion, Credence thought, as he looked at the man and acknowledged that they were lying ever so close to each other, their legs tangled and skin sticky from the shared night.

He covered his face with both hands, for truly such happiness could not exist. He held back a tearful gasp, which, nonetheless, woke Percival up.

“Credence?” he asked sleepily, raising his messy head off the pillow. “Oh God… Credence.”

The two man stared at each other. Percival’s face mirrored Credence’s disbelief and he broke into a wide smile, grabbing at Credence’s body and pulling him close, kissing his whole face and neck and drowning him in loving whispers.

“I could never think you’d stay. I’d hoped, but for it to be true…”

Credence let himself be kissed and touched and embraced, only mumbling in reply that he would never think of going away ever again.

For hours they would wallow in sleepy happiness, watching the sun rise higher.

“I have a gift for you, Credence.”

Percival didn’t look at him, and much to Credence’s surprise, he looked hesitant and shy. It was intriguing in its nature and Credence perked up to listen.

Percival slid out of the blanket and sat on the edge of the bed. Credence climbed after him, unwilling to break the physical contact, weaved his arms around Percival and rested his chin on the man’s shoulder. Percival leaned down a little with a small smile and plucked at the golden chain, detaching it from his ankle.

“You know this anklet has great importance for me, Credence. It’s my past and my memories. I would be… honoured if you accepted it as a gift. If you want, of course, there is no pressure, my darling boy--”

“Yes,” Credence said, his arms weakening the hold a little as he fell back surprised. “I would be honoured to accept it.”

Carefully, gently, Percival wrapped the golden chain over Credence’s thin ankle and clicked it together to hold. His hand made a slow sliding movement on the inner side of Credence’s leg and further up and on the inside of his thigh. Credence laughed loudly when Percival all but pounced onto him, pushing him to lie down and busying himself with kissing every inch he could reach.

“I love you.”

The words left Credence’s mouth unintentionally. Drunk with happiness, it was the only thing he deemed appropriate to say. Percival looked up, hovering over Credence and breathing fast.

“I love you.”

Credence watched Percival’s mouth move and spell the words. Unable to suppress whatever was bursting to escape his chest, Credence thrusted his arms upwards, wrapping around Percival, and bringing him crashing down full weight on his body, engaging him in an almost painful passionate kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> For newspaper titles I've used [this free resource](http://spiderbites.nytimes.com/). Since it doesn't provide 1926 articles for free, I used headlines from 1921.
> 
> [Come chat with me on tumblr! :)](accio-toffy.tumblr.com)


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